


little moments

by orphan_account



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 04:36:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8518729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: snapshots and seconds





	1. Chapter 1

They’re quiet in the mornings.

Kelley thinks it’s because of the way the light slants in through the window of their bedroom, soft and pure, casting a slight glow across the wide expanse of skin between her shoulder blade and her hip. When she wakes up first, she traces her fingers lightly down her back, outlining the borders of shadow and light where the sun peeks through the slats of the blinds.

“Shh, stop moving,” she mutters one morning when Hope stirs, mumbling something faint about fixing coffee and attempting to roll over to face Kelley. “Stay there for a second.”

Hope lets out a small huff of air, a smile painting her lips as she plops her head back onto her pillow. Kelley rests her chin on one hand and uses the others to memorize the curve of Hope’s side, wishing her fingerprints could somehow imprint onto her skin, leaving an irreparable mark.

Eventually her hands wander too far, a little too low and then a little too high, and Hope flips over with a small smirk on her face.

“Hi.” She cradles Kelley’s head in both hands, thumbs grazing against her jaw. Kelley smiles slightly, dropping her chin as Hope presses a kiss to her cheek, and she nuzzles in slightly against the sharp angle of the taller woman’s collarbone, lips finding purchase against the scripted tattoo there. Her voice sucks in and then out in a sudden, insistent way that has Hope pulling her suddenly tighter. “What’s wrong?”

It’s nothing really, and for a moment Kelley is hit with a pang of guilt for letting a single intake of breath taint this breath. It's just that she's never the first to wake up, as far as she can remember, and she's become so used to the smell of coffee or a box of donuts or a quiet challenge to a sprinting competition or just Hope's lips being the thing to wake her up. Dragging herself slowly into consciousness reminds her of past mornings and the bitterness of stirring her own coffee and showering slowly to wash herself of memories of the night before.

"Sometimes I remember waking up alone," she murmurs, and Hope's eyes soften, her grip on Kelley tightening. "And how you'd always be there when it was dark and not when it was light."

She's not sure if there's much else to say, but it doesn't matter because Hope's mouth is gentle and insistent on hers and it seems to Kelley that she's trying to take her breath away. For a moment she just lets them tangle together, but she can feel the reluctance in the way Hope is touching her, as if she's too fragile to hold.

"You know—" Hope's voice is insistent as she drags herself away. "I always waited. In the mornings, when I left. I always tried to make myself stay."

Kelley watches her face carefully, because there are still old wounds that are knitting themselves shut despite the years separating their old selves from who they are now.

"I memorized every damn freckle on your back." Hope chuckles, one finger dragging along Kelley's bicep. "And there's so fucking many of them, Kell. Like God, why are there so many?"

"You love my Irish ass," Kelley mutters defensively, pressing a kiss lazily to Hope's shoulder. 

She can feel Hope smile more than she can see it, and she softens at the touch of Hope's hands on the small of her back, pressing her closer.

"I'm sorry." The words are hushed against her ear. "I'm so, so sorry, Kell—"

"You're okay." Her lips are a little less lazy and a little more intentional now as they press against Hope's jaw. "How about you make me breakfast and I'll forgive everything?"

Hope flips them with a laugh, her hands quick and strong against her ribcage, pinning her back into the mattress.

"I love you." Hope presses a kiss to her forehead and it's sweet and gentle and stupid in the way it still makes her stomach flip.

Later — much later because Kelley is tirelessly patient and Hope likes to take her time in the morning — Kelley curls back into bed with a mug of coffee in hand, mixed with the perfect combination of cream and sugar that Hope memorized during their third tournament together. She takes her first sip and blushes slight when Hope reaches out a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Cheers." She clinks the edges of their mugs together. "To a future of waking up together."

And Kelley's not sure if it's the first sip of coffee or the way Hope kisses her, but the rest of the day feels a little sweeter.


	2. two

Kelley’s hand is insistent around Hope’s wrist as she tugs her towards the store, sandals slapping against the wet concrete of the sidewalk.

“Just to be clear—“ Hope grabs her by the shoulders and spins her around, eyes sharp as she focuses on Kelley’s face. “We’re not getting anything.”

“Right.” Kelley’s cheeks are flushed with the December cold, her breath coming out in amorphous puffs as she beams upwards at Hope. She’s wearing an oversized Santa sweatshirt with leggings, wool socks and Birkenstocks and honestly Hope would be mortified to be seen with anyone else looking like this. “Just looking.”

“Just looking,” Hope repeats, squeezing Kelley’s arms gently. And then Kelley tugs her hand again and they step into the animal shelter tucked five blocks south of their two-month-old Seattle apartment.

Inside is the type of warmth that feels like a refuge after several hours of window shopping in below-freezing wind that bites and wriggles its way through the layers Hope bundled up in before braving a full day of “Christmas spirit” with Kelley. She doesn’t understand how Kelley — who is tiny, built like a bird with Southern roots used to warm summers and mild winters — can slosh through the inches of mucky, half-melted snow crowding the sidewalks in nothing but sandals and somehow still have more fun than Hope.

(she’s actually not sure if Kelleys’ having a better time than her because she’ll be damned if she’s stopped smiling since they left the house for brunch, Santa sweatshirt and all)

Now, however, she can feel a slight shiver in Kelley’s ribcage as she drags Hope close to her side and approaches the front desk.

“Hi, we’d like to see your kittens.” The woman at the desk looks up, eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them. There’s a flicker of recognition as she studies Hope’s face, and then she smiles in amusement at Kelley, who is bobbing up and down on her toes. “All of them, please.”

The woman asks for ID, makes them take of their shoes — “The perks of Birks,” Kelley says with a triumphant grin as Hope almost topples over while tugging off her left boot — and forces an inordinately large amount of hand sanitizer into the skin of their hands. Then they’re let into a small room with a couch, a thick shag rug, a litter box, two climbing towers and about eight of the goddamn cutest kittens Hope has ever seen.

Kelley drops to the ground immediately, folding her legs and reaching out a hand to the nearest kitten. It sniffs at her curiously for a moment, reaching out a paw to touch her leg. After a minute of coaxing, it’s curled up in Kelley’s lap. She grins at Hope, stroking its calico fur softly.

“Come pet her,” Kelley whispers, and Hope rolls her eyes.

“You can talk normally.” She sits down carefully, reaching one hand out towards the kitten. “You’re not going to scare her.”

Their fingers brush as they stroke the cat, and Kelley smiles sweetly.

“Just looking,” she murmurs, and it’s just a breath of a promise. Hope looks down at tiny bundle of fluff in Kelley’s lap and sighs.

“We need to go in a few minutes or you’re going to take the whole damned kennel home with you,” Hope says, and Kelley nods, her eyes still fixed on the kitten.

A few moments pass before Kelley looks up again.

“I think her name would be Ginger,” she says softly, and Hope swallows a smile as she stands, sticking her hands out to help Kelley up.

“That’s it.” Kelley groans but complies, setting the kitten to the side with a mournful look. “We’re going.”

She doesn’t bring it up again until later, after dinner — they order Thai food because they’re both tired and sleepy — when they’re baking, Christmas carols playing through the TV stereo.

There’s only four days left until Christmas and although Kelley is the one who goes all-out on everything else — decorating the tree, stringing lights, buying sweaters, ice skating — Hope takes control when it comes to the kitchen. She has about fifteen recipes from Grandma Alice that are necessities for every Christmas. Without them, as she explained to Kelley, it’s as if the season never happened.

“So why couldn’t we get Ginger?” Kelley asks. She’s mixing the batter for pumpkin chocolate chip cookies, her personal favorite of Grandma Alice’s bounty of baked goods, and she keeps sneaking quick tastes with the tip of her finger. “Seriously. You love cats.”

Hope pulls a tray of sugar cookies from the oven, replacing it with a fresh tray full of dough cut into stars and Christmas trees. She tugs off her oven mitt, tossing it on the counter and leaning her hip against the marble, watching Kelley.

“I just feel like we should wait until we’re more stable to have anything dependent on us.” Hope shrugs, turning to wash her hands. “We just bought this place and we never know when we might be relocated and you and I, we just aren’t—“

“Stable yet?” There’s no malice in Kelley’s voice, and Hope turns around, watching her slowly as the younger woman plops round spoonfuls of dough onto a tray. “Okay, I understand.”

“I don’t mean anything by that—“ Kelley cuts her off with a kiss, slipping by her to add her tray to the oven. Hope watches her silently, a fond smile filling her face as Kelley fiddles with her phone to set a timer.

“Want to ice those?” She points at the sugar cookies filling three cooling racks, and Hope nods in response.

“You sure you’re okay?” Her question is answered with a sly smile as Kelley slides the cookies onto two plates, tucking jars of frosting under her arm and heading towards the living room.

“Of course.” She leans back through doorway. “Just means we can get one next year.”

Hope watches her go, grinning, shaking her head slightly as she stands alone in the kitchen, Kelley singing loudly along with “Silver Bells” in the other room.

“Can you bring the sprinkles in here?” Kelley shouts, and the yell breaks Hope’s calm stupor. She crouches, sliding open a cabinet to pull out several containers of red and green sprinkles.

“Give me a second,” Hope calls back, and she hears a slight grumbling before Kelley switches into a falsetto version of “I Want A Hippopotamus for Christmas.”

Three minutes later, she emerges from the kitchen with two cups of hot cocoa fixed Kelley-style — topped with a cup of marshmallows and drizzled with a ridiculous amount of syrup — in tow, sprinkles jammed under one arm and a DVD under the other.

“I figured we could watch Elf while we work?” The look on Kelley’s face is enough of an answer, and she takes both mugs from Hope’s hands and kisses her.

“You are a perfect woman,” Kelley mutters between kisses, and Hope smiles, warmed by so much more than just Christmas spirit.

They continue in a blissful way, spending the next three days watching movies wrapped in a quilt on the couch, baking and then eating enough cookies to guilt Kelley into sending Dawn a remorseful text, shopping for gifts and attempting to wrap their presents in secret from one another. It’s warm and it’s safe and it feels like home to Hope. And maybe that’s why, on Christmas Eve, she leaves for the store.

Well, that and marshmallows.

“Make sure you get at least three bags!” Kelley shouts as Hope leaves the door, tugging her beanie tighter over her ears. “The right kind! No store brand!”

“I’ve got it, Kell.” Hope smiles. “See you in a bit.”

It takes more than a bit. Kelley calls her parents, so she doesn’t really notice at first, but after almost two hours have passed she begins to worry. She’s just wishing her mom a merry Christmas when she hears the door open, bags rustling and Hope cursing slightly in the kitchen.

“What took you so long?” she shouts, and Hope mumbles a reply in the kitchen. Kelley snuggles further into the couch, turning the sound back on the TV, which is playing the ABC Family Christmas Marathon. “Want to bring me hot cocoa?”

“Brought you something better,” Hope says from over her shoulder, and then she’s lowering a small bundle of calico fur into Kelley’s arms and Kelley doesn’t know where to look, at Hope or the cat or at both.

“Ginger—“ Hope slides onto the couch next to her, a smile softening her features. “Hope, what did you do?”

“ _We_ adopted a cat.” She presses a kiss to Kelley’s temple. “We’re stable, and so is our future. I don’t want to wait for this kind of stuff anymore. We’ve waited long enough.”

Ginger falls asleep tucked between the two of them, rumbling softly and contentedly. And Kelley wakes up in to the morning to Hope beaming at the two of them.

“Merry Christmas.” Hope presses a kiss to her forehead, and Kelley suddenly realizes — she’s finally home.


End file.
